DI.  My tale torments thee, Theseus, but be still, that having heard what follows thou mayest groan the more—­Knowest thou then that thou receivedst from thy father three wishes with a certainty of their being granted?  Whereof one thou hast expended, O most evil one, on thy son, when thou mightest have done it on some of thine enemies.  Thy father then that dwelleth in the ocean, gave thee as much as he was bound to give, because he promised.  But thou both in his eyes and in mine appearest evil, who neither didst await nor examine proof, nor the voice of the prophets, didst not leave the consideration to length of time, but, quicker than became thee, didst vent thy curses against thy son and slay him.

THES.  Mistress, let me die!

DI.  Thou hast committed dreadful deeds, but nevertheless, it is still possible even for thee to obtain pardon for these things.  For Venus willed that these things should be in order to satiate her rage.  But among the Gods the law is thus—­None wishes to thwart the purpose of him that wills anything, but we always give way.  Since, be well assured, were it not that I feared Jove, never should I have come to such disgrace, as to suffer to die a man of all mortals the most dear to me.  But thine error, first of all thine ignorance frees from malice; and then thy wife by her dying put an end to the proof of words, so as to persuade thy mind.  Chiefly then on thee these ills are burst, but sorrow is to me too; for Gods rejoice not when the pious die; the wicked however we destroy with their children and their houses.

CHOR.  And lo! the unhappy man there is coming, all mangled his young flesh and auburn head.  Oh the misery of the house! such double anguish coming down from heaven has been wrought in the palaces!

HIPPOLYTUS, DIANA, THESEUS, CHORUS.

HIPP.  O!  O!  O!  Unhappy I was thus foully mangled by the unjust prayers of an unjust father—­I am destroyed miserably.  Ah me! ah me!  Pains rush through my head, and the spasm darts across my brain.  Stop, I will rest my fainting body.  Oh! oh!  O those hateful horses of my chariot, things which I fed with my own hand, ye have destroyed me utterly and slain me.  Oh! oh! by the Gods, gently, my servants, touch with your hands my torn flesh.  Who stands by my side on the right?  Lift me up properly, and take hold all equally on me, the unblessed of heaven, and cursed by my father’s error—­Jove, Jove, beholdest thou these things?  Lo!  I, the chaste, and the reverencer of the Gods, I who in modesty exceed all, have lost my life, and go to a manifest hell beneath the earth; but in vain have I labored in the task of piety toward men.  O!  O!  O!  O! and now the pain, the pain comes upon me, loose unhappy me, and let death come to be my physician.  Destroy me, destroy the unhappy one—­I long for a two-edged blade, wherewith to cut me in pieces, and to put my life to an eternal rest.  Oh unhappy curse of my father! the evil too of my blood-polluted kinsmen, my old forefathers, bursts forth[50] upon me; nor is it at a distance; and it hath come on me, wherefore, I pray, who am nothing guilty of these ills?  Alas me! me! what can I say? how can I free my life from this cruel calamity?  Would that the black and nightly fate of Pluto would put me wretched to eternal sleep!